Spirit of Wind and Vengeance
by Clawatme
Summary: A fugitive seeking to clear his name, a leader seeking to protect her people and a man seeking forgiveness find the most unexpected things in each other and the world. Guided by fate they come together to battle and to heal. Disclaimer: League of Legends, Runeterra and all its characters are the property of Riot Games.
1. Chapter 1

Everything was different.

The wind did not blow. The grass and leaves did not sway. The forest did not smell of the bright flowers that bloomed at that time of the year. Instead, there was a stench adrift in the air, strong enough to change the color of the foliage from a radiant green to a moldy yellow. The night sky was brightly lit even though tonight was the night of a new moon. The forest was deserted and the source of all these anomalies seemed to be a strange phenomenon in the sky - a pitch black disk engulfed in radiant, swirling vapors, all of them a shade of purple.

Looking at the eerily enchanting light a thought crossed Varus' mind. It seemed strangely familiar. He observed the anomaly a little more, in an attempt to recollect what it reminded him of. As he walked towards it, stepping forth nimbly and quietly, he studied the abnormality and the effect it was having on the forest around it. The stench grew stronger the closer he approached the disk in the sky. Having known the forest all his life, he knew that there was a clearing right below the disk. Carefully he made towards the field ahead all the while bewildered at the familiarity he felt.

With each step Varus heard sounds unlike that of any animals native to the forest and the realization that he knew the disk grew stronger. He was certain now, that he had encountered such a thing before. An air of uneasiness washed over him as Pallas, too, began to stir within.

The intensity of Pallas' agitation was tied to how close he stood to the disk in the sky. Approaching the clearing, he took a few moments to calm himself and the other within. He closed his eyes in hopes that Pallas would communicate using its primitive language of disjointed imagery and so it did. In his mind, Pallas showed him bloody things in various stages of being consumed. It showed him blood splattered all around along with organs of creatures he had never seen. Then he saw himself standing above the gory mess, with tendrils of corruption emerging from his body, reaching for the blood and half-eaten parts along with what seemed to be a whisper that could be interpreted as "hunger."

He opened his eyes, partly from disgust of what Pallas sought to show him, but mostly from the horror of having seen himself assimilating dead bodies. Disturbed, he instinctively looked at his hands and feet. The corruption appeared normal, but there was something not quite right about it. He traced a finger on the side of his hand to feel for anything unusual only to remember that his sense of touch had long been distorted as was his humanity. What was once flesh and skin was now a viscous black mass with a life of its own. The coarseness of the soil, the wetness of water, the warmth of another being could never be felt by Varus, the man. Everything he touched, it touched and thus what he felt was also rendered into pictures of how Pallas _felt_ – if indeed it was capable of such a thing. Right now, he sensed that Pallas wanted something rather eagerly, but beyond that he could not tell what its intention was.

Pallas had never before concerned itself with the sustenance of Varus' human half and yet it 'hungered' and probably expected Varus to feed. This was the first time such a thing had happened. It was most unexpected. But he decided to worry about Pallas later and turned his attention once again to the disk in the sky.

Standing behind some bushes at the edge of the clearing he stared at the disk, half expecting to discern some truth about its nature. From his current position it was clear that the disk was not really a disk, it was more a hole in the sky. Though it was dark there still shone through it many little lights, much like stars, although they belonged to no known constellation. It was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Directly below the hole he saw the silhouette of a heap of things barely recognizable due to the odd purple light. All had turned quiet. The stench was also noticeably stronger at this distance, so much so that he felt his nostrils burn. He decided to investigate further and moved into the clearing.

As soon as he had set foot into the clearing he felt Pallas' stirring grow stronger. "Stop it," he whispered, trying to prevent it from distracting him. But the other would not relent. Slowly, Varus' hands and legs started to throb. It was the coat of corruption moving on his skin, twitching, swirling like oil, sending waves of pain into his body. Still he persisted, more cautiously than before. A few yards away from the heap, where the stench seemed almost to erode what remained of Varus' ability to smell, he felt the pain heighten. His attempt to remain quiet were being undone as he had started to gasp. Unable to walk properly, he fell to his hands and knees. The ground was somehow drenched in a warm liquid but Varus couldn't focus. Things had turned bad rather suddenly. Trying to keep his voice down and his eyes open, he caught glimpse of the corruption starting to erupt into little tendrils from his hands and feet, making their way towards the heap. It was then that he understood what the pile was – carcasses – and the wetness of the ground was due to blood. It was Pallas' vision turned into reality.

Alarmed at what he believed would happen next, Varus gathered what strength he had left to move away. He managed to stand on his feet somewhat awkwardly, panting like he had just run uphill, attracting, in the process, an otherworldly being whose pile of carcasses it was that Varus had come upon.

Despite Varus' attempts at moving back into the forest, the corruption would not recede into his body and it kept moving towards the pile. His gasping grew ever louder and the creature he was yet unaware of kept watching him. Tired of resisting Pallas and bearing the pain it brought him, he fell to the ground still struggling to breathe. He wanted to rest for a few moments before beginning again and lay motionless on the bloody earth. He was still a little wary about closing his eyes, lest Pallas should renew its nightmarish speech. For the time being, he decided to concentrate on nothing but his breathing.

He inhaled deeply and slowly, filling his lungs as much as he could before breathing out. The foul odor made it hard to do but he continued nonetheless. The quiet of the forest and the twinkle of purple lights amid the darkness seemed somehow soothing. He imagined if that was what peace felt like. Not the false peace that the rest of Ionia had put its faith into, but the lasting, enduring peace that Ionian ideals were made of. The kind of peace that could never be disturbed, never be lost. He was reminded of that all he had lost, his dreams, his promises and the beauty in life that was lost with them. Still, those memories made for pleasant dreams that he could relive every night.

Little by little Varus' eyes closed, as if he had been lulled to sleep. Pallas was quiet. There were no grim visions. Only the sound of his breath and the warmth of the ground remained. It was blissful and hypnotic. He had lost all sense of time and he wished for things to not change, until the sounds of his breath were not the only things he heard.

Faintly, but surely, Varus heard something shifting behind him. The pile of corpses moved and he felt ripples of blood move along his body, as if something was tiptoeing through it. Once again, the pain had surfaced and Varus found himself breathing harder. As he gasped for air he heard footsteps splashing, coming closer. The pain only grew in response. Composure had become hard to maintain as he felt the corruption stretch from his limbs and away from him, most likely towards whatever it was that approached him. Unwilling to let the corruption reach its target, Varus turned around as fast as he could and came face to face with a giant mass of a creature alien to this world.

Before him was a creature of no definite form or color, a massive, gelatinous blob that could potentially take on various shapes. Three red orbs shone through from what Varus assumed was the creature's head, most likely its eyes. Watching it closely, Varus prepared to defend himself should anything untoward happen. The creature shifted to reveal a giant orifice where Varus thought its stomach would be. The creature shifted again to adjust the several folds of gelatinous skin onto one side so as to open the orifice wide. Extending through it was a tongue of sorts that had several smaller tentacles and teeth growing on it. From the sheer size of the orifice and of the creature, Varus was certain that it could swallow him whole in one gulp.

On the verge of a panic, Varus tried to scoot away to no avail. The tendrils of corruption had already made contact with the creature, slowly wrapping around it. The creature was sluggish, as could be expected from something of that size, and in the time it took to move close enough to get hold of its prey Varus had fashioned his bow of corruption. He had forgotten about the pain and focused only on killing the creature before it could kill him. Driven by instinct, he fired several magical arrows at the creature. Soon enough the creature resembled a pin cushion, but it was as if it felt no pain and kept advancing in its slow, steady pace.

Varus tried to move away further and readied another hail of arrows to shoot at the creature. By then, however, the creature's tongue-like appendage had wrapped itself around one of Varus' legs, similar to how his tendrils of corruption had gone one circle around the girth of the creature. It had become impossible to get away and the creature tightened its grip around his leg. As it dragged Varus closer, the small toothed tentacles on its tongue dug deep into his skin, trying to suck the life blood out.

The pain was tremendous and Varus screamed in agony. The creature too had started to thrash about as what it had started to drain from Varus' body was not blood, but Pallas' corruption. Slowly, the creature's grip on Varus' leg started to loosen, but Pallas had ensured that the creature could not escape. Frantically it tried to break free of the tendrils of corruption that had been slowly wrapping around its body, while Varus took advantage of its confusion and shot a charged arrow right through its tongue and into its mouth. The blow was so powerful that the arrow had come out the other side, tearing a giant hold though the monster. Wailing even louder in its unearthly voice, it shook and squirmed but the end was near. Varus shot a few more arrows at it and offered it the mercy of death. At last, its gelatinous body slumped like a mound of wet clay poured over the earth and soon after, its remains melted into a colorless liquid. No trace of it was left behind.

Relieved, Varus fell back on to the ground, his eyes now staring blankly at the hole in the sky. Unmindful of the pain that lingered, he closed his eyes, hoping to understand why Pallas had done what it did. At first, it was as if Pallas did not wish to speak. But Varus wanted to know. "Tell me, damn you!" he insisted.

Closing his eyes again, Pallas presented to Varus a being that looked much like him along with several other beings kneeling before him, some of whom appeared human. But the most interesting aspect of the vision was that Varus and the others were connected. Apparently, the corruption on Varus' body had spread to them. "Power," Pallas whispered.

Varus was satisfied with the answer although still apprehensive of Pallas' intentions. Their association, though spread over years, was still far too brief compared to the sheer age of the corruption. It was very near unknowable and none, if any, who knew Pallas had ever shared their knowledge. Varus knew not what to expect from Pallas. Regardless, he was not disappointed, if not exactly happy, to be alive at the time. He could still accomplish what he had set out to do the day he decided to let Pallas in.

Exhausted from his encounter with that strange beast, it took him little more than seconds to fall asleep, never mind the stench and the blood on the ground. Laying still and staring at the beautiful purple lights dancing in the sky, he decided to rest for as long as needed.

* * *

A/N: I'm still figuring things out as I go. But this story is largely focused on the Ionians. I'm not even sure if I want any romantic pairings, although I will be exploring any romantic feelings the characters might experience towards each other with or without admission and/or interaction in a romantic context.

The main characters have been listed and I will explore Karma's character a lot. There is a lot of potential there, imo. The rest is up in the air at the moment.

Do review and comment if you like it. Thanks for your time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Welcome to chapter 2. I am currently still looking for a beta reader. I do all the editing and proof-reading myself and it's usually good enough, but I do miss thing sometimes.

Also, I'm going to approach the story and its events from the points of view of multiple characters, until it doesn't serve the purpose I have in mind. I hope it doesn't become too repetitive.

Anyway, happy reading.

* * *

"My lady, a woman from a settlement south of here begs for an audience," a guard said. A translucent veil separated the guard from the woman he was addressing. In the dark of night, it was difficult to tell whether or not she had heard him.

"My lady…" he hesitated, wondering whether she was awake. There was no answer and he thought to inform someone else about the situation, when unexpectedly the veil was thrown open and Karma stepped out, dressed as she usually was. Despite the hour, she looked as energetic and alert as always. The man was startled to find her not just awake, but ready to deal with any problems. Momentarily dumbfounded by Karma's radiance, he stared at her before kneeling in front of her.

"Arise," Karma said with a gentle smile on her face, "and tell me what the matter is."

The man rose to his feet, still a little nervous to be talking to the most revered person in Ionia. "A woman begs to see you, my lady," he said, with the barest of frowns on his brow. It was clear that there was something upsetting him. Karma observed him for a while, trying to read the expression on his face. Starting to fidget with his hands then, he spoke, "The woman claims…to have seen a … _a hole_ …in the _sky_ …" His expression turned fearful soon after. "She claims," he said, "that … strange creatures have descended upon her village… and were… _eating_ everything." The dread in his eyes was unmistakable. Ionia had witnessed brutality and horrors not visited upon any other nation in the recent past. Its people were still shaken, thinking of their safety at all times. Enemy soldiers were still manageable. The elders and heroes of Ionia – Irelia, Karma, Lee Sin, Master Yi and others – had given the nation a second chance. Their courage had instilled in the people the faith needed to defend their homeland from invaders. But the fear always lingered and hearing of new threats always made the people wary. Karma could see the discomfort the guard was feeling although she remained calm and collected, her will never faltering. "Take me to her," she said gesturing to the guard to lead the way.

The guard moved quickly through Karma's modest accommodation. It was almost as if Karma needed someone to show her the way, for she spent very little time at her house in the capital city. Almost all year round Karma was engaged in either diplomatic visits to other nations of Valoran, or visiting the many villages and settlements of Ionia, spreading the message of independence and the strength of spirit. In fact, what little time she did spend in her home was also burdened with the weight of duty. The capital city too needed her services.

Weaving through some passages and passing a few rooms the guard finally reached the front lawn, with Karma close at his heels. The lawn had several more guards, most of them tense with their weapons at the ready. The guard slowed down as he entered the patio and stepped slightly to the side so that Karma could see the visitor.

At first glance, Karma could not recognize the figure before her to be that of a woman at all. Instead, it seemed that she was staring at a lump of flesh wrapped in a piece of cloth. The woman was covered in splashes of red and brown, bordered with some green here and there. It seemed that the situation was direr than Karma had anticipated. The unease of the guards and their tense faces seemed much more appropriate in light of the visitor's condition.

Approaching closer Karma could see the woman's face stained with blood, tears and mud. A glance at the woman's feet showed blisters and several small wounds. It seemed that the woman had run a good distance barefoot. Karma felt a sense of concern growing along with the need to help her in any way she could. But before the feelings could become too strong, she reminded herself that focus was paramount especially given the ominous nature of things to come. Feelings, however appropriate, could not be allowed to compromise the stillness of spirit.

The woman was sitting on the grass with her arms wrapped around herself, even though it wasn't cold. It also seemed as if she was shivering a little, but Karma couldn't be sure. Walking closer now, she saw the woman's tear stained face, still anxious, most likely worrying for the others in her village. Stepping on the grass of the lawn a few feet away from the woman, Karma took deep breaths to help maintain control of her emotions. Still wondering how to approach the gruesome subject of the woman's visit Karma knelt down, deciding finally to just place a concerned hand on the woman's shoulder.

As Karma's hand touched the woman, the latter turned around startled. "My Lady!" she gasped with her eyes wide open showing a mixture of awe and gratitude. The tears had started to flow anew. "You must help them!" she spoke quickly. As if all her lost strength had been regained at the mere sight of the enlightened one, the woman began to stand on her blistered feet holding Karma's hands in her own and said, "We must hurry! They cannot hold out for long!"

Surprised at the woman's hopefulness and humbled by her faith, Karma nodded. "Tell us everything you can and we will be off," she said.

Before the woman could begin though, another guard stepped forth. "My lady," he interrupted looking nervous. Karma had turned to face him, yet he stared at his feet and shot passing glances to his fellow guards standing in the lawn. "There is another matter…" he trailed off.

"What is it?" Karma asked trying to encourage him not to hesitate.

Balking, he looked at the other guards while avoiding Karma's gaze. Sensing his unease then, Karma stood up and directed the question to the others. "What is this other matter?" No one seemed inclined to speak up. Karma watched expectantly while the guards whispered unto one another. Karma was beginning to feel annoyance when she reminded herself once again to detach from the fluctuation of emotion. While she was distracted momentarily, as were all the others around her, there came a voice from the shadows of the night.

"They speak of the rogue samurai," the mysterious voice said. Silence fell upon the gathering at that point.

Karma was somewhat surprised to hear that not too unfamiliar voice. There was no doubt about it. It was Kennen, a member of the Kinkou that had spoken. She whirred around quickly, peering into the darkness trying to see the little one. It was difficult to make out where he was, but eventually he stepped out into a brighter spot so everyone could see him.

"Greetings, wise one," he said as he bowed gently before Karma.

"Greetings, Master Kennen," Karma replied back. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Kennen walked closer with nothing but his eyes visible to everyone around. He knew that the soldiers were taken unawares by his sudden appearance without even having to look at them. His task, however, required that all pay attention to him making the shocking entry a necessity. He reached into his coat and produced a piece of parchment. "For you," he said as he handed it over to Karma.

"Is it urgent?" Karma wondered. She considered herself engaged with the wounded villager's request and thus unable to deal with other issues. Dying people would always take precedence over letters. But the Kinkou had eyes and ears everywhere. It was possible that the Order would send word of something extremely urgent, especially as it was already late and night and a member of the Order had shown up at her house.

Kennen thought for a moment because his reply held the potential to save or destroy an entire village. He looked at the wounded villager standing crookedly to one side, still clutching Karma's hand like a scared child clings to its mother. He already knew about the troubles of the villager, seeing as his Order was usually the first to know of things - all things - in Ionia.

"It is urgent, certainly," he said after a pause, "But it is not an immediate threat, unlike the things attacking Ibaki village."

Karma was pleased to know that the Kinkou Order was aware of the situation in the village. "That is good to hear. The letter I leave for afterwards, then," she said.

"As you wish, my lady," Kennen replied. "Another letter has been sent to Lady Irelia and perhaps she will be able to act on it while we defend Ibaki. A small group of ninjas has already left for the village with Master Akali in charge. They should be there by the time you reach, my lady."

"Thank you, Master Kennen. We shall leave immediately." Karma replied, bowing back to the little ninja.

Turning away from Kennen, she addressed the guards, "We must make haste, if we are to salvage Ibaki. Quickly, now!"

The guards, still unenthusiastic about heading to Ibaki stood with their heads lowered. Karma could not understand why the guards still showed no initiative, until one of them told her why. "But, my lady, the traitor…"

"What traitor?" Karma demanded.

"Ah, yes, I forgot to mention that," came Kennen's voice once again. "My lady, these men talk of Yasuo, last remaining swordsman of the Wind Style."

It took but a moment for Karma to recall Yasuo and the ripples he'd sent across the Council of Elders during the Noxian invasion. At the time, she was not a part of the council, but she was close enough to see the other elders and the terror that had washed over them at the very mention of his name. Yasuo, prodigal swordsman, honorable apprentice and heir to the legendary Wind Technique, heartless murderer who killed an aging Elder and his own brother using the very technique he was famed for. No one really knew anything about him, except for the tales of his skill with the sword from before he took on the identity of 'wanted killer.' Part of the fear the Elders felt was because of the rumors that had started circulating soon after the incident; that he had set out to rid Ionia of tradition which, allegedly, he perceived as weakness much like the invading Noxians. This complicated matters because he was not a foreign devil, but a fellow Ionian. To make matters worse still, Yasuo was not known to grant an audience to someone and let them live. The few who thought they could bring him to justice themselves were felled, until people just thought it best not to provoke him.

Eventually, it was Karma who changed the ways of the council, giving form to the fears of the Elders. She was the one who broke tradition albeit not, as was feared, in a manner lethal to the presiding elders at the time. She was seen as foolish and reckless, until her methods proved effective and imbued with wisdom that was confused for petty rebelliousness. Meanwhile, Yasuo had faded into the background, heard of only occasionally through travelers and tradesmen who roamed the land endlessly, just like Yasuo himself. He did not concern himself with the affairs of the nation and the nation at large, with the exception of the National Guard and members of Yasuo's native village, Fuuzato, were content to leave Yasuo be.

Karma was still puzzled, however. She could not see how Yasuo, a killer who had been in hiding for so long, was tied in with the creatures attacking the village, or how he posed a threat. He was not known to participate in anything outside of the Institute of War – where, too, he was a recluse, picked only by summoners who fancied him for the way his sword seemed to dance at his fingertips. He was a formidable opponent and a decent ally in matches, but Karma did not put much stock into the Institute of War or what it showcased, for not all that glitters is gold.

"What of Yasuo?" she inquired, hoping to get an explanation.

A guard promptly voiced his fears at that point. "What if he thinks we are after him? He would massacre us all! Perhaps, even before we reach Ibaki."

Finding it increasingly difficult to remain calm, Karma breathed deeper. 'Focus,' she reminded herself. "His presence should not be our concern. I'm sure he'd prefer to move away from flesh-eating creatures and soldiers over fighting," she urged.

"That is not true!" the guards protested. "Ever since his betrayal, he has murdered hundreds of us - soldiers and guards alike. They were sent only to capture him and bring him to the capital for a trial. Yet he cut them down mercilessly. Surely he would think of us and the Kinkou as having come to apprehend him."

Karma's mind was made up, however. Ibaki needed her and she would rather die trying to save it than hide in fear of one swordsman. "This is merely conjecture. We do not know what Yasuo might think of our actions and we must not worry about what we cannot know for certain, Indecision is failure," she reasoned.

Karma took one final look at everyone, her eyes resolute and strong. When her eyes met the wounded villager's she said, "Do not worry, good woman. Your efforts will not be in vain." The villager smiled as best she could, even though tears swelled in her eyes. The guards, though apprehensive, readied themselves and prepared to leave for Ibaki. Kennen had already left, just as quietly as he had arrived. Karma tried to look for him but thought it was probably a waste of energy. He wouldn't be any good as a ninja if she could find him. Preparing to leave then, she took the wounded villager by the hand and led her outside as fast as the villager could walk on her blistered feet.

After a quick stop at the stables for horses, Karma left for Ibaki accompanied by thirsty soldiers and guards. She had tried to persuade the villager to go to the Placidium to receive treatment for her injuries and failed. The woman, stubborn as she was, insisted on going back to her village. "I cannot leave them behind!" she asserted. Karma could not deny the woman her wish. In fact, she was moved by her strength. She permitted the woman to travel in the middle of the group so that someone could always keep watch on her.

Ibaki was to the south of the Capital City. There were two paths that could be taken to reach Ibaki. The shorter, more direct path required cutting across a moderately high hill and through a dense forest. The longer route lay to the east, but required going completely around the hill and across a river. The river was still better than the forest, even though there were no bridges built to cross it. Normally, people searched for a shallow spot and waded through the water to get across. The task was simple as the river did not get deeper until further downstream. For those with the leisure to travel safely, this path was ideal. However, the group headed to Ibaki had not the luxury to take the longer route.

Karma directed the soldiers to head straight for the hill and so they did. As the company rode, the scenery began to change little by little. The paved road leading from and to the Capital city had ended, being replaced by a dirt track. Further ahead, the dirt track too had disappeared amid tall trees, thick with leaves and berries. The company had reached the edge of the forest at the foot of the hill separating the capital from Ibaki. This is where the path usually got tricky. Fortunately for the company, the villager knew the shortest way in and out of the forest. Karma was glad for the obstinacy of the woman. It would probably take them a lot longer to reach Ibaki without her.

In about an hour, the villager had guided them uphill. The shorter, but more difficult part of their journey to Ibaki had been completed. The top of the hill was not as densely covered with trees as the base. The number of boulders was large and the trees were spaced further apart as a consequence. The sky was visible through the intertwining branches and the moonlight shone brightly, bathing the hilltop in mellow hues of blue. The beauty of it all had Karma lost in a trance-like state, where she had forgotten all about monsters, murderers and the hardships of life.

"We should let the horses rest for a while, my lady," said one of the soldiers, making Karma snap out of her reverie. "Just a few moments should be enough," he added.

"All right," acknowledged Karma somewhat absentmindedly.

Dismounting her horse, Karma thought to meditate for a while to steady her breath and to still her wandering mind. She would have to be at her best if the dangers at Ibaki were to be dealt with efficiently. She helped the villager down from her mount and found a spot for her to rest before informing a guard about her plans to meditate for the duration of the break.

Moving away from the crowd Karma went looking for a relatively secluded spot, preferably where the moon could be seen in its entirety and where the hill overlooked the river flowing eastwards. Luckily, Karma found a small waterfall around a short, but steep drop. It was just as she had hoped for. The moon was visible clearly from there. It was almost full and without a cloud in sight, she could enjoy its cool rays completely. Finding a rock adjacent to the waterfall, she sat with her legs crossed and the back of her palms resting on her knees. Closing her eyes then, she repeated the phrase of the universe over and over in her mind, feeling its power crystalizing within her.

Karma's mind filled with presence and all the energy of the cosmos, submerging in the process all sense of time and mortality. No thought crossed her mind. No emotion coursed through her person. In absence she experienced completion. Until, a soldier came running to her and almost screamed in her ear.

"He's here!" the soldier bellowed.

The man's sudden appearance was like a knife tearing through her very being. Disoriented and shaken, Karma managed to open her eyes and regain her bearings with some difficulty.

"He's here!" the man repeated upon seeing Karma's confused state.

Gesturing hurriedly to Karma to follow after him, the soldier ran to the tree cover from whence he had come. Karma kept pace with the soldier, noticing as she ran past the resting spot that only the horses and the wounded villager had stayed behind. As the soldier leading her began to slow down, Karma understood that they must be close to wherever 'he' was. Eventually she saw the remaining soldiers, all of them with their back turned towards her. They were gathered around something and tense, most of them holding their weapons in their hands, ready to strike.

The soldier leading Karma disappeared into the crowd before her and she readied herself to face this newfound trouble. When she had managed to push past the soldiers, she saw the figure of a man bent over another figure with a sword pointed at the latter's neck.

The moonlight was dim at this particular location, but the sheen of the sword and the glint of metal pauldrons caught Karma's eyes. It had become clear that 'he' was Yasuo and the soldiers' apprehensions were justified after all.

The mysterious, murdering master swordsman was right before her eyes, ready to kill one of her soldiers and all anyone could do was watch. No one dared to move, lest he should kill the poor slob at the wrong end of his blade. The poor man whose life hung in the balance whimpered softly, his breaths rapid and shaking.

Lifting his face from the man fool enough to come close to him, Yasuo eyed the onlookers he had attracted. A mischievous smile began to form at the corner of his lips and he asked of them, "Have to come to kill me?"

* * *

 **A/N: **

**Jacc Krowe:** Thank you for the review. I hope I don't disappoint. :)

To all other readers, feel free to comment/critique. I welcome constructive feedback.

Thanks for your time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** **:** Hi guys, here's the next installment.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I might have gone longer than I should've with this chapter (as in, it's too elaborate for no reason). Could be wrong, can't be sure just yet. But, as justification, I felt it necessary to set a baseline of sorts that represents first impressions that characters have about each other. These first impressions are important because they reflect the magnitude and the depth of any changes in perception the characters have over the course of the narrative.

 _Also, special thanks to my new beta reader, **Alsodef.** Glad to be working with you._

Hope you guys like it.

* * *

"What is truth worth?" he asked.

A piece of timber crackled after being tossed into a small fire. The owls hooted and crickets chirped. The breeze cooed sweetly and the leaves rustled in an otherwise silent forest.

He repeated, "What is truth worth?" This time he looked at the steel sword that lay upright, buried in the earth for about a fourth of its length. It was as if he expected the weapon to answer him, but it didn't. Frowning slightly, he moved his gaze to his water case fashioned from the section of a bamboo stem. Closing his eyes then, he held the case over his head and swallowed its contents in one gulp. Whatever it was that he drank made him wince a little. It was a moment of pain followed by a numbing gush of relief. Eyes open and darting once again to his companion of steel, he waited for a reply. As he watched the flawless blade intently he couldn't help but notice a reflection on its gleaming, smooth surface – the reflection of a man he only barely recognized as himself.

A man with unkempt hair, an unshaven beard, patches of dirt and mud on his face and most prominently, intense yet tired eyes stared back at him from the reflection. The man he saw was not the man he thought he would see more than a decade ago. Adoration and honor were to be his reward, yet here he was, in a jungle, with naught but notoriety to distinguish himself from everyone else.

"Is this what truth is worth?" he mused, moving his eyes from the reflection over to the flickering firelight. He wished for one more sip of the drink which he recalled having emptied barely moments ago. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he moved to retrieve the sword at his side. With one swift motion the sword was freed from its hold in the ground and he placed it back in its sheath, preparing to sleep for the remainder of the night.

Laying his head on a low, flat rock he closed his eyes, waiting for blissful sleep which he knew would not come. Still, he tried to keep his eyes shut and his mind clear of disturbances. Several moments passed as he lay there tossing and turning on the grass-covered earth, searching for the perfect position to ease his sleeplessness. But it had started to seem like his insomnia was incurable. After all, sleep was not for those with blood on their hands.

Many minutes later, the drink seemed to finally take effect and his eyelids grew heavy when the sounds of the forest were joined by a low rumbling, like rocks rolling off the side of a slope in the distance. At first, the sounds did not interfere with the drowsy feeling he had. However, the rumbling only got louder over time. Unable to rest easily, he opened his eyes wide paying attention to the noise – where it was coming from, what it could be. As the noise grew louder, he understood that its source was getting nearer. The low rumbling was actually several thuds coming together, approaching closer. It was then that he understood the noise to be caused by trotting horses and horses were not known to roam wild in these parts of Ionia.

He got up quickly and extinguished the fire he'd created. Wearing his spaulder and grabbing his sword, he snuck into the bushes trying to get a glimpse of who it could be roaming the hills at such an odd hour. Bandits, perhaps? Or, a caravan?

Peering into the faintly moonlit forest, he waited, patient and alert. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword and he lay crouched when the first horse ran past him a few yards ahead. Observing the riders he could tell they were here for battle. Uniforms, heavy weapons and the crest of Ionia emblazoned in gold all pointed to the fact that these were soldiers sent by the Ionian leadership, no doubt to dispose of the traitor.

For a moment he closed his eyes, as intoxication and emotion had caused him to once again remember some unforgettable actions in his past. His brow furrowed as he tried to remain unaffected, but all he could do was lie to himself about it. The weight of sadness and the burden of guilt can only be borne for so long. Yet he had to persevere, for he had vowed to set things right. Opening his eyes then, he counted the number of riders, pushing away the painful memories and steeling himself for a fight.

Around twenty five soldiers rode past him while he stayed hidden. The last of them was now out of sight and he wondered whether to seek them out, take the fight to them, or to wait to be discovered or worse, ambushed. A third alternative, to carefully follow after them from a safe distance to learn of their intentions before acting in haste, is what he finally settled on.

Still crouched on the ground, he moved in the direction he had last seen the horses go. He walked several yards ahead before he could hear the sounds of neighing and some talking. He surmised that the party must have stopped. The possibility that the soldiers were out to capture him seemed that much more probable now. Yet, he continued after them stealthily.

As he tiptoed quietly on the grass, he could not help but wonder when he had last encountered soldiers out to arrest or kill him. It took a lot of effort on his part to recall that it had been more than a year ago since the Ionian leadership had tried anything. Chuckling at the thought, he decided to find out what had emboldened them enough to try again after so long a gap.

Slowly he crept forward until he could see the soldiers through the thicket. At least part of his inference about the soldiers was right - they were resting. He could see horses grazing and the men stretching their limbs after a tough ride uphill. But there was still no hint about what they had set out to do. Against his better judgment, he decided to move in a little closer in the hope that he could overhear something about their mission. Tracking and following targets was not for a swordsman. It was in the repertoire of ninjas to watch from the shadows and strike at the most opportune time. The very thought of it annoyed him, yet he had no choice but to follow the men quietly.

The waiting was about to pay off, he thought, when two soldiers wandered off from the bulk of the group. They were walking uncomfortably, mumbling under their breath and what better than disgruntled employees to get the most reliable information about their employers, he thought. As they headed into the bushes far to his right, he stalked them trying his best to hear everything they said.

"What a day, eh?" said one soldier to the other, who nodded in response.

"I finally got some time with my lady after weeks of being posted out of the capital when there came a knock at my door and this fellow told me to get ready and go to the city stables immediately," the other said.

"That's terrible!" exclaimed the first. "I was told it was something really important and I thought I'd get more coin for this assignment. I would never have agreed if I was in your situation," he snorted patronizingly.

"Say, do you know why we're here?" asked the other.

This was the part that most interested the silent listener hidden in the bushes behind them. He paid close attention to the soldiers at this point.

"I heard some things, but I don't know for sure," the first soldier said. "There's trouble down in Ibaki, but they don't know what's causing it."

The two men stopped walking and it seemed like they had reached their destination, which happened to be another patch of thick bushes. Turning such that their backs faced each other, they proceeded to relieve themselves in the brush while continuing the conversation. The lone, hidden spectator silently cursed himself for having to put up with this obscenity.

The soldier continued, "I heard that people in Ibaki are being killed and they don't know who's doing the killing."

"Really?" the second soldier wondered.

"Yeah, but that's not all. I also heard that Yasuo was last seen around here and I bet they think that he's been killing those people. I'm sure the lady wants him dead once and for all. That must be why we're here," he said.

The silent spy was now convinced that the party was out to capture him, yet he did not know how to deal with the situation. He had successfully fought several soldiers on his own on many occasions in the past. There was no reason to believe that this instance would be any different. Yet he wondered whether he should fight them simply because he could. Fighting had begun to bore him terribly, especially the kind of fighting where his opponents were no match for him.

A single moment of preoccupation was enough to distract him from the two men he was following, and the larger party of twenty odd men that were camped nearby. His vacillation continued unabated until he heard the sound of a twig snapping, as if underfoot of someone approaching him from behind. Alert once again, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword ready to retaliate should someone attack. A second, milder sound followed as he quickly turned and pointed his sword at the source of the noise. Much to his surprise and relief, it was just a wild goat. He thought it odd that a goat should be wandering about alone at night. They usually lived and travelled in herds. But he thought no more of the creature, until it started bleating.

Wide-eyed, he tried to get the inexorable beast to quiet down. But the imbecile creature would not cease its vocal onslaught. Deciding finally to force the creature to shut up even if it meant killing it, he drew his blade to the side ready to swing at its neck, when suddenly he heard the loudest cry he had ever heard coming from a man's throat.

"Yasuo!" came a loud shriek. "It's him! He's here!"

He had been discovered.

Incorrigible as he was, Yasuo smirked and slowly stood up to face the screaming man. It was the soldiers he had been following that had finally found him. Ironic, he thought. His sword still in his hands and the bleating goat still at his back, he waited for them to make the first move. The drink from before made him want to exhibit his flawless technique with an intensity that could not normally overpower his sense of reason. Yet, at that moment, the notorious murderer, master of the wind blade, stood before two scared grunts with a mocking smile on his lips as if beckoning them to attack him.

The two soldiers, quaking in their boots, drew on their weapons which, fortunately, they had not placed at camp. Cold sweat had begun to trickle down their forehead and along the side of their neck. Even the mild breeze had started to feel ice cold, causing them to tremble more. But fear was a funny thing. Sometimes it would cause one to flee, at other times it would cause one to fight impossible odds and such a thing could be witnessed even now. Finding it difficult to remain in his spot facing this most formidable enemy one of the soldiers charged at Yasuo, screaming as he ran while the other stood still, almost frozen, and did nothing but watch.

Yasuo was only too happy to show his skills. Smiling still, he watched the charging soldier almost causally. He knew exactly what he wanted to do and he was prepared to execute the plan free of error. When the soldier had approached close enough, Yasuo merely blocked the incoming blow with his sword and kicked the man in his knees causing him to trip and fall to the ground. The force of the soldier's charge made the fall that much more painful to bear and he wailed. But before the man could get up and begin again, he found Yasuo bent over him with the tip of his sword pressed against his neck. Given this position, even gulping could prove dangerous.

Yasuo shook his head looking at the man on the ground. The message was clear - any sudden moves and the sword would find its way into his throat. In the meantime, the remaining soldiers had gathered at the source of all the commotion. Yasuo now found himself surrounded, albeit by soldiers who were too scared to advance on him. Everyone had their weapons drawn, but no one dared to move, lest Yasuo should kill their comrade on the ground.

Yasuo eyed the crowd carefully. Counting their numbers again, he found that there were thirty men about twenty of whom were regular foot soldiers while the remaining, from their badges of office, seemed to hold a higher rank. Still, no one made any attempts to engage him in battle. It was unbecoming of them. The soldiers and Yasuo stared at each other, neither sure of the course of action to be taken until there walked through the crowd a woman that clearly did not belong in their midst.

Yasuo had seen this woman before, most Ionians had. This woman, Karma, Duchess of Ionia, was the savior of the land and protector of its people. Her rise to prominence coincided with his disgrace. While she was propelled to the position of Elder in the council, Yasuo was cast away, his dignity robbed and his reputation tarnished. The Noxian invasion had changed the fortunes of many people, but none had gained from it like she had.

He was taken aback to find her there. Being the _de facto_ leader of the nation, would she really deign to accompany a group of soldiers to capture one criminal, exceptional though he may be? On one hand, it seemed possible considering that Yasuo had killed countless men who were after him, escaping each time and eluding the authorities for over a decade. On the other hand, there were other, more capable people who could have accompanied the soldiers to capture him today. The blind monk, Lee Sin, peerless warrior, or Irelia, the leader of the National Guard seemed better suited to fighting him than the enlightened one. Karma's skills made her the ideal spiritual teacher, not a combatant. Being fellow members of the Institute of War, Yasuo had witnessed Karma fighting both against and alongside him. She was helpful to her team, indisputably, but her contributions were little more than trivial according to him. It didn't seem fair that Karma should become leader of the nation while others remained subordinate to her.

Yet, he did not think of her as the kind of woman who would take on dangerous expeditions out of pride. It could not be that she decided to chase him down because she wanted to prove her prowess in battle to everyone. Curious, he wanted to hear from her, directly, the purpose of their visit to the forest. "Have you come to kill me?" he asked, his tone bordering on condescending.

The answer was slow to come, however. It had been a few seconds since the question had been asked and Yasuo cocked an eyebrow looking at Karma derisively.

At last, she replied to him, "No."

Her expression concealed no malice or trickery. Yasuo could find no traces of dishonesty in the way she stood, or the way she looked back at him, but despite all evidence to the contrary, he did not trust her.

"Why are you here, then?" he asked her with the smile having long since faded.

"That is of no concern to you. Let the man go and we shall be on our way," she said, gesturing to the soldier mewling at his feet. But Yasuo would have none of that.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, smiling once again. That soldier was all that stood between him and thirty others waiting to bash his skull open. "I have another proposal for you," he said, "This one stays with me and the rest of you are free to go."

"I didn't think you would stoop so low as to take hostages, Yasuo," she spoke dispassionately.

It was typical, he thought, reprimanding someone for doing what they absolutely had to on the grounds of morality. She'd spoken the words that every leader is expected to speak at least once in their lifetime. It was almost a kind of tradition, passed down from generation to generation in Ionia.

"Spare me the lecture, lady," he snapped back at her.

"Show some respect, you scum!" bawled one of Karma's men. At that point Yasuo merely laughed, unable to contain his amusement at the incredibly scripted way in which the conversation had proceeded.

"Enough," came Karma's voice almost immediately.

Yasuo was still smiling to himself. Karma had the choice of agreeing to battle where she would lose at least one man immediately and several others soon after, or to leave with twenty nine men in exchange for one which, as was clear already, would have her men rebelling against her in no time. He enjoyed watching Karma's every move and every expression. Nothing like the satisfaction of seeing an opponent caught between a rock and a hard place, he thought. But life's events were not so easily predicted, not even by him.

"I agree to your terms but before we leave, I must have a word with your hostage," Karma said, contrary to his expectations.

The soldiers were visibly shocked and offended, just as Yasuo felt like the ground had been pulled from under his feet. Much whispering followed among Karma's company. Some of the men tried to protest but she paid them no heed and Yasuo had grown that much more suspicious. He felt outmaneuvered but wasn't quite willing to admit it.

"Well, Yasuo, is that agreeable to you?" she asked, impassive.

He recognized that he was being tricked but, somehow, he was still getting what he had asked for – freedom – though it was only temporary. He nodded slowly, unwilling to let his confusion show.

The soldiers argued as Karma walked over to the hostage. "My Lady, how could you leave one of your men with that…that criminal!" voiced one of them, disappointed and aghast. But Karma refused to even acknowledge the comment. The only one not dismayed by Karma's disinterest was the lone man poised to have his throat slit by Yasuo's sword. His cries grew louder, perhaps in hopes to change Karma's mind when he heard footsteps approach him.

"Please…" he mumbled amid stifled breaths, "Please don't leave me at his mercy."

The hostage continued his muffled whine as Karma knelt beside him. Yasuo observed her closely, his distrust rising every second. He dared not look away from her. She, on the other hand, seemed content to close her eyes and proceed with speaking to the man on the ground indifferent to Yasuo and his keen gaze.

She spoke softly, so much so that only Yasuo and the hostage would have been able to hear her. He tried very hard to make out the words she uttered, but all that he could conclude was that she was using an ancient Ionian dialect, one that very few people were able to use in this day and age. Yasuo grew increasingly uneasy as he continued to listen to Karma's words. He felt compelled to look at what the soldier understood, if he understood anything at all of her message.

Looking down at his hostage, he saw that Karma had placed a hand right below the tip of his sword on the man's neck and that the man himself had ceased his sobbing, seemingly unafraid of impending death. Yasuo, now certain that things were not going to end up favorably for him, decided to disrupt whatever was happening. "Stop!" he exclaimed.

"I said, stop it!" Yasuo roared madly, still looking at the hostage whose visage grew calmer by the second while Karma continued her speech. By the time he could look Karma in the eye, however, there emerged from his chest a sudden, searing feeling – burning hot and agonizingly painful – that grew into his limbs. In an instant the invisible fire had spread everywhere making his body rigid and unamenable to any amount of force he employed to break free. The only things still under his control were his eyes. He looked at Karma who was looking back at him, her eyes open, glowing a bright green and drilling into his soul. He saw that her hand, also glowing, was outstretched towards him disappearing somewhere below his face.

As if petrified, Yasuo realized all too late that he had indeed been deceived.

* * *

 **A/N** **:**

 **eXpaladin:** Thank you for the encouragement. I will continue to write and I hope you continue to read. :)

 **Jacc Krowe:** I'm so glad you like it. I agree with you about the fun being in interpreting the IoW (Institute...) but then, I fear my interpretation isn't very.. grand or anything. I don't even know as of now if my interpretation of the IoW with respect to the characters will be very relevant to the story because the role of the IoW is negligible considering what I have in mind.

As for the story, I have a basic plot in mind, just like LoTR had the 'destroy the ring' plot. Most of the details, such as when and how to attain said goal, I am working my way through as I write. Why, I had a whole different end planned for this chapter when I had started writing it! But then I got a ton of other ideas about what I should do, where I should I go from here and some of them seemed a lot better than what I had in mind previously. Of course, I'm a bit of a perfectionist and am not exactly satisfied with the (this) finished product but it will have to do.

Thank you, once again. Hope you enjoyed this one too. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry for the long gap. I was busy with an exam. Its done and I have a little while before getting busy again. I'll to speed things up a bit.

Thank you Alsodef and VG for your help with reviewing and initial feedback.

I won't keep you any further from the suspense ;)

 **EDIT:** I fixed some typos in the chapter now. Hopefully I got everything. =/

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Towards the western coast, past the majestic countryside nourished by the Tensoku River lay the iconic Kunou valley. Bound by mountains and not too far from the oceans it was poised to enjoy the many luxuries of nature. Temperate weather, abundant farmland and plenty of water made it the ideal location for a settlement. But, for centuries, there lived naught but a small community of people in what they called the village of Kunou. One may be so inclined as to wonder why more people would not move to such a bountiful valley from other parts of the nation, but all such questions are put to rest at the mere utterance of the word 'Pallas.'

While most Ionians and hardly anyone outside of Ionia had any inkling about this thing known as Pallas, its history was a well-known and fiercely guarded secret among certain circles, the efforts of which culminated in the establishment of Kunou village almost a thousand years ago. Little was known of the circles, or of the members that held the secrets of Pallas except that their successors were the ones inhabiting Kunou village since the time of its inception; their purpose – to preserve the secrets of their ancestors and safeguard the temple on the adjoining hill.

Over the years, the purpose of the villagers had not changed by much in terms of what they did, but the reasons behind their actions grew less and less clear. Years turned to decades to centuries and all that remained in the minds of the inhabitants was their overwhelming sense of duty towards the shrine on the hill. What the shrine housed, however, was known only to the few that were allowed inside it – priests and the temple guardian – the last of which was Warden Varus, sole survivor of Kunou village after the Noxian invasion.

More than a decade after Ionia's most horrific struggle against the Noxian incursion, the valley of Kunou had grown ripe with plants and wildlife. Only the barest of hints of the prosperous and dedicated protectors of the village was left behind. The desolation, the stains of blood, the scraps of armor and weaponry from the last war fought in the valley were now home to creepers, moss and critters. Flowers bloomed where broken bones lay scattered while ashen remains enriched the earth. But the most beautiful sight of the valley was the grove in the northern edge of the long lost village - a garden of young trees spaced evenly, each bearing fruits and flowers growing atop mounds meant to mark the graves of every man, woman and child slain at the hand of the Noxian scourge that had ravaged the land so long ago.

Ever since that sordid campaign of death had passed through Kunou, Varus had made it a point to visit the graves of the fallen if only to keep fresh the grim memories of anguish and vengeance. At first, he visited the graves everyday while the faces of his wife and son were still firmly engraved in his mind. He felt the rage build within him. He seethed, his anger touching new heights, the love for his friends and family transformed into a virulent hatred he did not think himself capable of. But time dulls all things - the edge of a blade, the sharpness of sight, the warmth of love and especially the clarity of memory. Almost a decade after he had sworn revenge on the unmerciful Noxian filth that had cut down every Ionian in their path, Varus found himself standing before the graves of his near and dear ones, still nowhere close to fulfilling his promise of raining painful retribution upon the evildoers.

The Institute of War had seemed a promising lead in the beginning, even though Varus had always known that the League and its Summoners would not permit violence against other members. In his very first meeting with a Summoner he was told that his goals could not be furthered in the Institute or with the help of the League. At the time, however, he had declared to the pretentious Summoners that he would still find means to further his cause, his sole purpose, no matter the odds.

Standing before the tombs of his kin now he felt ashamed, recalling the first time he had admitted before anyone the reason why he had allowed Pallas to partake of his body.

"It is the only purpose I have left," he said to himself exactly as he had said it to the Summoner when he was initiated, as if in an attempt to relive the moment when he admitted to an outsider the burden he had taken upon himself. Compared to then, it seemed like his resolve had weakened now.

Slow progress, fading memories and the changing landscape of nations on Valoran had left Varus lost. Where once he was convinced that much of Ionia would feel the way he did about the actions of Noxus, ten years hence, it seemed that most everyone but him was prepared to move on from the past, from the hurt and the cloud of misery that it had brought on. But he dared not to attribute his countrymen's desire to move on to nobility of spirit. Instead, he chose to heap another sin onto the shoulders of Noxus – the sin of having persuaded all the other countries to join the Institute of war so as not to face the macabre consequences of their actions in Ionia.

Varus clenched his fists and his jaws, feeling the familiar rush of hate that Noxus brought on in him. His eyes were still fixed on the graves in front, but all he could see was the last vision of Kunou village smoldering with naught but the sound of flames eating through bodies and buildings alike.

"They will pay," he said, "They must." Thinking of nothing else then, he turned to leave for his abode – the shrine that he protected at the cost of everything else in his life – when he came face to face with a fellow league-member.

"Eye of Twilight," Varus voiced, with none of the astonishment he felt reflecting in his tone.

"Warden," reciprocated Shen.

Both men stood a while facing each other wordlessly. Varus waited for Shen to explain why he was there, but Shen simply stared back from behind his mask, his eyes seen only as white masses devoid of pupils, much like Varus' own eyes.

Seeing no more reason in waiting around aimlessly Varus proceeded to leave for the temple when, as he crossed Shen, he heard the words, "We must talk."

Intrigued, Varus turned his head to look at his interlocutor who, instead, was looking ahead.

"What about?" Varus inquired.

"About a hole," said Shen, "…in the sky."

It came as no surprise that Shen would be aware of the strange phenomenon Varus had witnessed a few days back despite how secluded Kunou had come to be, owing to the nature of the Kinkou Order. What did come as a surprise, however, was that Shen had somehow guessed of Varus' rendezvous with the anomaly.

"What hole?" Varus said, trying to find out what the other knew about the encounter.

Shen, still looking in front, replied, "The one that appeared over the forest on the hill about a fortnight ago."

Varus was not done feigning ignorance of that life-threatening run-in with the hole and the creature that skulked around it. "What makes you think I know anything about it?" he asked.

What Varus heard next resembled a snort followed by Shen finally turning to face him.

"I don't think you know, I _know_ that you know something about it," Shen asserted.

Varus looked at the Eye of Twilight carefully. To be visited by the leader of the Kinkou in person was considered by most to be a great honor. Varus, on the other hand, thought only that the cause for Shen's visit must be a serious matter.

"What do you wish to know?" Varus queried much more intrigued than before.

"Everything," Shen declared immediately.

If only momentarily, Varus' mind drifted back to the unsettling events of that night and all the uneasiness it caused him. Particularly, he could not help but think back to Pallas.

Ever since that night, Pallas had felt different to him although only subtly. Mindboggling as it was to him, Varus could not help but be curious given the peculiar images Pallas had shown during the incident in the forest. Varus could feel lingering dread, but at the same time, there had grown in him a strong need to know what Pallas meant with its ominous visual phrases; a need that encouraged him to dig through a small cache of books and scrolls hidden in Pallas' temple – the last bits of Kunou's history to survive the Noxian invasion. Uncertain about how much of what he had learned could, or even should, be shared with anyone unfamiliar with Pallas, Varus pondered the details of all that he could tell Shen while not being dishonest. He would still have to be careful.

"There isn't much to tell," Varus said, "There was a hole in the sky and some manner of creature protecting it, perhaps, I can't be certain."

"And?" Shen asked eagerly.

Varus shook his head in response. "I had to kill the creature when it attacked me and then the hole was gone."

"That's it?" Shen sounded nonplussed.

"Yes," Varus replied, conveniently omitting Pallas' terrifying blurb and the odd feeling of familiarity the hole had brought on in him.

The mention of that ominous night and the memory of Pallas it caused to linger for longer than needed made Varus feel discomfort for what was about to come. Looking at Shen was beginning to wear on him even though he had lied effortlessly. He turned away slowly, hoping Shen would be none the wiser. Catching a glimpse of the sky reminded him that sunset was not far. It was almost time for him to return to the shrine. Varus thought it just about the right time to head back in order for him to make it to the top before dark. It also seemed to be the perfect opportunity to get away from that little untruth.

"Now, you must excuse me. I have to return to the temple," Varus said trying to cut short any further questions Shen might prolong the conversation with

"Tell me about this creature you've mentioned," said Shen to add to Varus' growing discomfort. The words almost echoed in his ears. He was being gently coerced into thinking about his lie, but more importantly about that night. He closed his eyes in vain to keep the images of that hideous thing from flashing in his mind.

There had started to form from memory outlines of that creature, its massive form towering over him while he lay on the ground on the verge of being assimilated. The fear from that night, too, was rekindled in him and he could not help but be sucked in further.

"Warden?" called Shen confused at Varus' odd reaction.

Varus had received a momentary distraction – a thing he thought sufficient to break free of the eerie spell he felt like he was under. He looked at Shen once again, reaffirming the reality of having survived through that ordeal. Taking solace in the immutability of fact, he dared to delve back into past events.

"It was huge and unlike anything I had ever seen. But it forced my hand," he said, leaving all the details about its strange appendages and transparent flesh from the other man.

Shen seemed to believe the lie and Varus would have been relieved to know that the ugliness of that night would finally be allowed to settle back into the depths of his memory were it not for the strange tingling in his skin.

A chill ran down his spine almost instantly and Varus found himself beginning to feel the same symptoms as that night. Slowly but surely, Pallas had surfaced from its slumber whispering lightly as it rose to the foreground, it words forming hazy pictures that converged over a few seconds, followed by a growing pain in his limbs.

Circumstances had grown undesirable for Varus rather quickly. Sunset had almost approached with Varus making no progress towards the shrine and Shen no closer to leaving. As Pallas' whispers turned into a clear voice, so too increased the pain in his arms and legs. Images of Pallas' twisted speech crystalized in his mind, depicting him as at the head of a small group of people each of whom were bound to him by means of a tendril of corruption. 'Power' came the understanding of that display, accompanied with a nudging to look in Shen's direction.

The urging was so subtle that he could scarce tell it apart from his own thoughts. It was amazing how Pallas had taken control of so much of his mind. The worst part was that Varus could not defend against what was, for all practical purposes, a part of him. Yet he tried in what little capacity he could to be careful before acting on Pallas' suggestions no matter how innocent they appeared. Deciding to avoid Shen' gaze unless absolutely necessary Varus turned towards the hill trying once again to end the conversation.

But Shen was not prepared to excuse him just yet. "Would it be possible to see its corpse then? Can you take me to the place?" he asked earnestly.

Varus was unwilling to remain there any longer and his disinclination only increased when he felt Pallas trying harder to get him to face the other man. The ache in his limbs had also been on the rise and once again he felt his skin tingle. The first signs of worry had emerged in the form of a single drop of sweat sliding slowly behind his ear. Sneaking a peek at his hands showed him the gentle swirling of that viscous black coat of corruption sticking to his skin.

Instantly, the subtle breeze of fear he had been feeling had turned into a howling gale as he stood inwardly calling on the clever owl to guide him safely back to the temple before things could get any worse. He wished to leave before anymore incidents from that night should repeat themselves.

"Well?" came Shen's voice once again, grabbing Varus' attention from out of his fear filled fantasy.

"No you can't," Varus blurted out in haste turning, in that instant, to face Shen a few moments only too late to realize his folly. The tingling of his skin was becoming more pronounced and Varus could not help but clutch his arms. Afraid to let matters get out of control, Varus decided to leave no matter what Shen would think. It was better to be suspected of something than to have Pallas act like it had when faced with that creature.

No doubt Shen was able to see all the strange behavior from Varus. Somewhat concerned, he asked, "Are you all right?"

Varus was both annoyed and surprised at the question, but he could not afford to linger any more. "I'm afraid I must leave for the temple immediately," he said curtly.

Unable to find the courage to speak more of that creature, lest that memory should refuse to leave him at peace Varus began to walk towards the hill. The pain in his arms and legs continued and Varus picked up the pace, but he was partially relieved to know that he would be able to deal with Pallas away from observant eyes. He did not even wish to know if Shen was still around. It was far more important to reach the temple so that he could handle any problems on his own, he reasoned.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Bane340** \- Thank you for the kind words. :) I hope the story lives up to your expectations. Thanks for reading.

Do feel free to comment and critique, guys. Thanks for your time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Next installment.

Hope you like it.

* * *

And so it was done. The captive was freed and the captor restrained. Karma was pleased with the outcome although it was not how she had imagined things would happen. The whole incident had been a lot more trying than she had anticipated. Still kneeling on the earth her mind drifted to more serious matters, such as the village that was under attack by creatures the likes of which none had ever seen or heard of, when she realized that it was time to leave the forest.

She breathed heavily a few times as she prepared to shift her weight onto her feet in order to stand up. With some difficulty she lifted her knees off the ground, but quickly fell back on them unable to disregard the sharp pain in the side of her waist. A silent gasp issued forth while she moved a hand to the sore spot to her left side. Once she had placed her hand over the spot gingerly, she felt the warm wetness of what could only be blood. She dared not look there or at her dress for it was easier to maintain her resolve when the severity of her injury was downplayed, or in this case, unacknowledged. However, the soldiers, who by now had gathered all around her, did not share in her complacence about the matter.

Watching her struggle to stand, some of the men approached closer in an attempt to help her rise from the ground. One of them knelt and held her free hand indicating that he would support her weight. Another appeared on the other side of her, seemingly intending to the same thing. But she did not wish to be helped.

"I can manage," she said slowly while avoiding their eyes. The soldiers looked at each other in response and decided to wait as Karma tried once again to stand.

This time Karma was determined to stand no matter the pain or the weariness that had come over every muscle in her body. Still clutching the wound, she placed her other hand on the ground and lifted one knee at a time eventually succeeding in maintaining balance as she finally rose to her feet. The two soldiers at her side returned to their positions in the crowd somewhat impressed with her.

"Now then, we should move to Ibaki quickly. I think the horses and we have rested enough," she said, resuming the original task of rescuing Ibaki. Her soldiers merely shot her questioning glances.

The captain of the company, a somewhat older man, was the first one to speak up: "But, my lady, you are injured and we also have Yasuo to worry about. It is not every day that he shows up and it is certainly on special days that we are able to overpower him!"

She pondered over the issue for a few moments, seeing merit in the objection that had been raised. Not going to Ibaki was out of the question, but fighting unknown dangers with an injury could prove a poor decision. It was certain that some medical attention had to be paid to her wound, even if it were only good as a temporary solution.

"All right," she said, "There must be a bandage or a poultice in the packs we have with us. That will do for my wound and then we can be off. I will have it looked at later, when we return to the capital city."

"What about Yasuo, then?" he enquired again as if reminding Karma of the other problem he had pointed out.

This was an easier question for her to answer. "Tie him up," she said almost immediately.

From the baffled look that took shape on the soldiers' faces Karma could tell that her solution to the second problem was not so well received.

"But, my lady…" the man started again, only to be cut short by Karma.

"Capturing Yasuo is not our goal. It never was. Ibaki is why we are here, and if we don't hurry, it will all be for nothing."

"But what if he escapes?" he argued still.

"Then so be it," she replied. "Now, if someone could get me that poultice we can be on our way. There isn't much time."

Karma knew that the soldiers were dissatisfied with how she chose to deal with their captive but she would have it no other way. She turned to leave towards the campsite when she came face to face with the villager who had presumably fallen asleep. Quickly the woman grabbed Karma's hand and led her to a boulder embedded under a tree a few feet from the crowd.

"Please, sit down. I'll get the bandages," she said softly. Karma tried to resist as before, but the villager simply pushed her gently on to the rock insisting on fetching the items herself. Karma smiled at the woman gratefully and thought to gather her strength in these last few minutes before they could depart for Ibaki.

Having nothing else to do for the time being Karma looked in the direction of the soldiers and saw listlessly the things they were doing. While most of them had moved to their horses a few men remained behind finishing things up with the fugitive in their midst. The man she thought was the captain of the company was addressing the remaining few of the group in a voice too low for Karma to hear, but she could still guess as to what was said.

"Tie him to that tree, hands and feet first, then his torso. The bindings should be tight enough for him to wish he'd never come to this forest," she thought the captain said. Three men then picked Yasuo by his shoulders and dragged his unconscious body over to a large tree while a fourth man went to retrieve a rope to tie him with.

"Will this do?" the soldier shouted from the edge of the campsite as the others just waved for him to return without paying much attention to his question.

Within moments Yasuo was tied up and bound to a tree as ordered and the captain, pleased with how quickly the men had accomplished this, sent the men off to their horses to prepare for the journey ahead. After that he walked over to Karma with a certain determination coloring his stride. She could see from the way he walked and the way his eyes blinked so little that his mind was made up about whatever it was he was thinking of.

When he had finally reached where Karma remained seated, waiting for the villager to retrieve some salve or balm for her injury, he spoke without hesitation. "My lady, I am well aware of our task here today. You have made it clear to us that we are to focus on the village and not on Yasuo." He paused afterwards.

Karma readied herself for an argument about Yasuo again and a sigh escaped her lips, when the man continued, "My lady, with your permission, I would like leave a few soldiers here to keep watch on our little guest. Only if you allow it."

It was not what Karma had expected to hear from the man. It was a curious case. His proposition was not completely unacceptable to her and yet she had her reservations. "Are you sure we won't require all thirty men in Ibaki? The villager talked about some very bizarre things," she reasoned, feeling a little silly at how overcautious she sounded.

The captain smiled in response. "My lady," he said, "You underestimate the men at your service. We will save Ibaki even if it means the death of every last man present here."

The sincerity in his voice was both refreshing and heart-warming. Acceding to his request Karma said, "I suppose you would know your company better than me. Perhaps, it is best that I agree to your proposal."

The captain smiled, apparently pleased to know that he would finally get the chance to bring Yasuo to justice after going through all this trouble to capture him. "Thank you, my lady. I will be stationing three men here and the remaining will move to Ibaki," he said. As the villager returned with a salve and some bandages, the captain decided to leave Karma to prepare for their journey and pick the men to leave behind to guard Yasuo.

Karma's eyes followed the captain until she felt the sting of something being rubbed on her wound. She was tempted to look at it, but refrained from doing so forcing herself instead to stare straight ahead. She got the barest of glimpses of Yasuo, still unconscious, and of his sword and its sheath being taken from him. It seemed a tad unusual, but her mind was brought back to the injury when she felt the villager wrapping the bandage around her waist. It was painful and Karma barely held back a wince.

"All done," the villager said soon after.

Karma moved her hand to her waist no longer sensing the dampness from bleeding. It was relieving in a way and she turned to thank the villager for her assistance by bowing to her as an expression of gratitude. The villager beamed and strangely, Karma grew to feel optimistic about the fight to come.

"Let's get going," Karma said gesturing the villager to lead the way.

Despite the almost unanimous disapproval of Karma's decision to leave the captured criminal behind, the campsite was quiet. Most of the soldiers were tending to their horses, adjusting the saddles, giving their weapons a last look to check for battle worthiness and the like. Only one of them seemed somehow perturbed about something which, apparently, he was discussing rather heatedly with the captain.

"But sir, I wish to be part of the fight! Please don't leave me behind," he begged.

Karma noticed him and for some reason he stood out in the crowd of soldiers who looked almost all the same with their uniforms, cropped hair and scars. This man seemed less like a man and more like a boy drafted into the military prematurely. Curiously, he was also the only one to sport long hair, tied up in a ponytail.

"Do you dare to disobey a direct order from a superior, soldier?" the captain asked coolly, even though the threat was obvious. The young man only lowered his head in return, his frustration visible from the way he frowned and look at his feet.

"No sir," he replied before the captain could speak up again.

"Good, now be off. You have a job to do and you had better not fail," the captain spoke somewhat cheerfully. The young man, sensing the futility of his protest bowed to the captain and went to join two other men holding what looked like torches standing at the edge of camp. Karma's attention was brought back to the impending battle when the captain approached her to report of the troop's readiness and at last they had set off for Ibaki.

* * *

The reality of having to deal with unprecedented odds loomed larger with each passing moment. The atmosphere grew tense and even though no words were exchanged every one headed to Ibaki could feel the fear and anticipation.

The impact of the horses' hooves trampling rocky ground underfoot flowed through Karma's body like a steady rhythm and her heart seemed to thump in tune. Although it had been close to an hour since they had left from camp the time had flown by swiftly, leaving Karma entranced and partially unreceptive to the changing landscape.

The forest had begun to thin down. The trees were not numerous, nor were they tall enough to hide the sky from view. Mild gusts of wind could be felt streaming over the earth with the cold reaching its peak in the wee hours of morning. As more and more of the surroundings could be viewed without the trees obscuring sight, someone noticed how the sky appeared bright in the distance ahead.

"Look!" one of the men said, "What is that?!"

Karma peered listlessly in the direction the soldier pointed to. Indeed, there was a gentle yellow glow visible just above the tree line pulsating slowly, but she could not fathom what it could be until the captain yelled from his horse, "That's fire! We have to hurry!"

Getting the horses to gallop then the company sped in the direction of the light. Karma could feel her muscles tighten and her resolve was firm. She snuck a peek at the villager who was also doing her best to stay strong in order to help her family and friends. She also recalled that a meeting with Akali and some of the Kinkou people was soon to occur, based on what Kennen had told her back at her house in the capital city. Although the fire ahead did bring forth foreboding thoughts, there was still strength in numbers and therefore, hope of saving Ibaki.

Eager to meet the allied Kinkou warriors, Karma eyed the path ahead expectantly. The feverish pace of their journey continued on and in a short while all the excitement seemed to genuinely give rise to heat. The night air blowing against her skin felt warm and the light ahead only grew bigger. The fire was presumably large and it was not only she who sensed the mounting of dread. Little by little the horses slowed down, contrary to the soldiers' intention to reach Ibaki faster than they would have thought to do so some time ago. The men even tried to push their horses to gallop by commanding them either verbally or with nudges to their sides. The horses only neighed in opposition, eventually coming to a halt.

However, military personnel were not known for dealing too well with insubordination be it from man or beast. There were those among the men who simply could not accept that their mounts refused to move ahead. But even they were left without a choice when the horses started rearing as a result of being forced to run. Puzzled and without options, the captain pondered the possibility of walking to Ibaki while leaving the horses at their current location. The villager confirmed that they were close enough to Ibaki to reach it on foot in a few minutes.

Without wasting a minute the party setoff for Ibaki on foot. It was still at least an hour to go before sunrise and the sky was still dark. There was no time to make torches but conveniently the villager said that she would still be able to lead the way. They also had the large fire that they had caught sight of from further away to guide them.

They walked through the area at a steady pace, unable to jog to their destination owing to the villagers and Karma's injuries. Barely moments walking towards the village made it plenty obvious why the horses resisted going in any further as vehemently as they did. There had gradually built up a scent most foul, wafting in the air as if from corpses and other rotting mass somewhere nearby. Their vision also grew blurred with bits of ash floating in every direction originating from the large fire up ahead.

The villager was visibly distressed, trying as hard as she could to prevent herself from crying and yet she sniffled from thoughts of being too late to save her people. Karma too grew worried as no sign of the Kinkou seemed to show and no sounds could be discerned except those of flames consuming anything and everything in their path. No cries, neither human nor animal, could be heard calling for help. She picked up the pace inadvertently as anxiety rather than caution grew to drive her forward. Never realizing that she had even crossed the villager at the head of the party, she ran in the direction of the ash and smoke, the path growing brighter from the firelight but no less clear.

Completely immersed in the moment, Karma could scarcely hear the soldiers calling out to her. All she could feel was the hot gusts of ash laden air blowing past her skin and the irritation in her eyes as a result of running into a smoking inferno. When she had finally reached the edge of the village, every muscle in her body froze making her come to an abrupt halt. What she beheld was destruction only paralleled by the Noxian invasion. Dumbstruck, she could do nothing but stare at the flaming ruin of Ibaki. Very little was going on in her mind, except that Yasuo and his horrible timing had cost her the life of several innocents much like the invasion had a decade ago.

* * *

 **A/N:** Do comment and/or critique. Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait. And it's not going to get shorter from here on, sadly.

Next installment of your favorite (or most hated, as the case may be) swordsman of the League.

Special thanks to my betareader, Alsodef. :D

* * *

The touch of a cool breeze on his forehead, the moist blot along the length of his sleeve, the faint tint of red along the corner of his eye felt all too real, but none as convincing as the form lying slumped on the ground a few feet behind him.

He turned, his eyes watching steadily, waiting with baited breath for the slightest hint of movement. His mind raced and time slowed. He realized how he felt torn on the inside by two opposing desires. He wished for the other man to move, but he also wished for their fight to stop. As his heart beat ever harder in his chest he realized that he had been caught in an inextricable trap. Still, he chose to wait.

While only seconds had passed, he felt as if he had stood there for eons watching at the same spot like a statue forced to look wherever the sculptor willed until the object of his interest finally collapsed on the ground with a thud and a clang.

"Taro!" he screamed, running to the side of the fallen man.

He was frantic. With obscured vision, constricted breath and scattered thoughts he turned his brother over and pulled him onto his lap. His racing heart had started to throb painfully as he looked upon the peaceful expression the brother had on his face and it had finally dawned on him that one of his wishes had at last come true.

"I have failed, Jiro," his brother said to him amid painful croaks that emitted blood.

"No, no, no! Please don't say that, please! It doesn't have to end this way!"

His hands had started to shiver and the shade of red in his eyes had started to get washed away by the tears that had started to flow down his cheeks. Quickly he tore off both his sleeves and bound the cloth along the bleeding wounds on his brother's body – the wounds that he himself had inflicted moments ago. There was still hope, he said to himself. It was still possible to save his brother

"My time has come," his brother said while raising a feeble hand to wipe the tears on Jiro's face. "I have no regrets, save one."

"Don't talk like that! It's not over!" he protested, feeling the cold hands of fate wresting all hope from him.

"I only regret that I was not a better brother to you," Taro said.

"No, no, no!" he argued, his voice bordering on screams.

Drawing in a deep breath Taro continued, "I failed to teach you the value of humility and my punishment for this failure is to die by your hand."

At this point no shred of hope remained and while his heart wanted to fight against the unfaltering grasp of death, his mind knew that Taro was only a few breaths away from the blissful sleep of eternity. In the very next instant, Taro's hand fell abruptly from his brother's cheek and onto to ground.

At that moment, Jiro knew that his brother was no more and still he cried out in despair, "Taro, no! No!" He shook his brother to no avail lamenting all the while, wondering why it had come down to this.

The loudness of Jiro's voice caused his body to tremble and his soul to be shaken from its place. It was a scream that could be heard across time and one that Jiro heard in his dreams, so much so that he often awoke to the sound of his own voice sorrowfully calling for his brother lost on that fateful day.

This day was no different. The name of his brother lingered on his lips and he could see his brother's lifeless body lying in his lap until he heard a whipping sound and his cheek stung from what was most likely a slap.

"What're you going on about?" came a question in a crusty voice.

Only when he had heard the question did it occur to him that the fight and his brother were part of a dream, the same dream that he had dreamt countless times since that ominous day. The image of his brother's body had begun to dissolve and he wondered about how long it had truly been since he had laid his brother to rest. He tried to recollect what had passed in the more immediate past that led to the current situation, but nothing came to mind.

"You awake or not?" came the voice again, followed by a slap to the other cheek. As the dream faded, he was finally able to open his eyes and he saw the silhouette of a pudgy man clad in armor standing in front of him. Still only barely conscious he was slow to respond which, in turn, earned him another slap.

Each slap felt harder than the last but it served to awaken him more fully. Once the pain from being slapped had subsided he looked around more carefully. He noticed a fire burning behind his interrogator and the shadows of two more men sitting with their backs turned to him.

Soon after, he was slapped a fourth time without provocation and he felt the weight of the steel gauntlets the pudgy man had been wearing. He tried to retaliate, to show the sack of lard standing before him what it feels like to be hit in the face with an armored hand, only to notice that his hands had been bound behind him and around the trunk of a tree.

"Not so tough now, are you, mighty Yasuo?" the man mocked.

"Leave him alone, Zhu," said one among the two men sitting by the fire.

"But, this is fun," Zhu said, "You should try it!" Zhu waited a while for his comrades to speak up but neither of them did. His shoulders slumped and he expelled a huff of bad breath in Yasuo's general direction as a result of being let down. A few more minutes he spent undecided about whether he wanted to torment his tied up prey before leaving to join his friends.

Yasuo had his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried to come up with a way to break free, taking a moment to understand his situation. He relaxed and leaned back into the tree, feeling the tough bark on his bare skin. Pushing his arms inward he could feel his palms moving close enough for him to clasp hands. Feeling around his wrists as best as possible, he could tell that his hands had been tied with a piece of rope and therein he saw a way out of his predicament.

"The two of you are boring, especially you, Ken," Yasuo overheard Zhu complaining in the distance. It was difficult to not hear the fat man and his voice like a knife on glass.

"Come on, Zhu, leave him alone, Can't you see he's feeling under the weather?" said another one.

"But that's the point, Anil! How can anyone feel under the weather when we've achieved such a great victory today?" Zhu chirped with a mixture of anger and excitement coloring his voice. "We have _the_ Yasuo defeated and tied up like the rat that he is. In fact, I'd be itching to teach that filth the true meaning of _consequences_!" Yasuo, still overhearing the conversation involuntarily, found himself trying harder to untie his hands before those men could take advantage of his incapacitated state.

"Not everyone thinks like you do, Zhu," said the other man, Anil. "Not everybody wants to torture prisoners, not even Yasuo."

"For someone like you, yeah," Zhu began, "I can understand you not wanting to beat up captives. But what reason does he have? Have you ever thought about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard, have you? Ken is from Yasuo's native village." Zhu declared.

Yasuo froze when those words had registered correctly in his mind. A man from Fuuzato was sitting a few feet from him. He looked up almost immediately, wishing more than anything at that moment to be able to see a fellow from his home. A mix of both complementary and conflicting emotions had started to surface in Yasuo. Before him was one among the people he had considered his own, one among the people that blamed him, one among those he considered friends, one among those only too eager to execute him for a crime he had not committed. There was joy and yet there was anger, kinship and also alienation. On the whole, Yasuo definitely wanted to know who this man was.

"He's a sympathizer, Anil, and that's why he was so upset about being assigned guard duty," Zhu said, slightly annoyed.

The words rang once again in Yasuo's ears. He felt a glimmer of hope rekindled in his otherwise cynical self. It was a feeling he never thought he would feel after his escape from Fuuzato, more so after the death his brother - the last of those who ever truly loved him.

"Is it true, Ken?" asked Anil.

Yasuo's eyes were transfixed at the men sitting right ahead. The pudgy man was in full view on the other side of the fire, his accusing eyes staring down at the man on his right. Yasuo peered through the darkness trying to observe the features of this supposed sympathizer. The only thing he could see was the man's long hair neatly tied in a manner typical of the students of his school and his hope swelled.

"Ken, please, answer me. Is it true? Do you support him?" Anil asked somewhat nervously.

For several seconds the two men and Yasuo kept looking in Ken's direction. The pudgy man was annoyed, yet curious. The other soldier, Anil, seemed to be concerned and Yasuo hung in the moment as if the words Ken would utter next, if he would at all bother to respond to his friends' questions and accusations, held the power to change his life. The fire crackled softly. The chirping of birds had started. Dawn was fast approaching and Yasuo sat hoping against hope for a brand new start where he would no longer be alone against the world.

"If you weren't my friends," said Ken in a whisper barely audible to any who weren't paying close attention. "If you weren't my friends, I'd have picked up my sword against you."

"There, you see? I told you he was a sympathizer!" Zhu bellowed.

The mood of the situation had quickly turned sour and Ken stood up almost immediately. It seemed as if a fight was to break out between friends.

"And why do you think I'm a traitor, Zhu?" Ken yelled back. "I'll tell you why. It's because I'm from Fuuzato. If I had been from anywhere but Fuuzato, would you have doubted my intentions? Would you?!"

The tension had risen and both Zhu and Ken had drawn their blades, ready for a fight. Things would have gone much further if it wasn't for the peacemaker among them, Anil, who had jumped right in between them, pushing them away from each other.

"Please! Let's all calm down!" Anil interjected. "Ken, listen to me. No one is accusing you of anything. We just want to know if you…know Yasuo from before…and if you have any reason to believe he was right to do what he did."

The chirping of birds had started to grow louder. The sky was no longer pitch black. The fire had grown small, showing signs that it would die out in a few minutes and all the while the soldiers stared at each other, paying no mind to the prisoner tied up behind them.

Eventually, Anil gestured Ken to sit. Zhu seemed less excitable than before and also took a seat. Anil placed himself between his other friends, perhaps to prevent any altercations that might arise in future and Yasuo continued to watch from the distance.

Ken resumed his place in front of the fire, his back turned away from his fellow villager. For a long time nothing was spoken between the men, until Ken finally picked up a piece of wood lying nearby and started to scrape it with a small knife.

"I once knew a man," said Ken, "who came all the way from the south of the country." His eyes were still fixed on the piece of wood as he scraped away at it without effort. "He was a trader and his specialty was wooden carvings."

The sound of the knife scratching wood was continuous, but there was a rhythm to it and Ken continued to narrate in his trance-like state.

"I still remember that afternoon when I first met him. I was about seven at the time. It was my first year at the school and while my class sat as one of the older students demonstrated sword stances before us, I noticed this man under a tree, just watching. When the lesson was done, I ran to the man and asked him why he was staring at us and he said to me…He said that he wanted to make carvings of swordsmen from the school."

"At first, I thought he was mad. But then he kept coming every day. Then, one day I went out and asked him why he wanted to make carvings of swordsmen. And he recounted to me an incident from many years ago. He told me that a swordsman from my school had once saved him from a gang of bandits on the road, without waiting for so much as a 'thank you' in return for his kindness."

"I asked him how he knew that the man was from my school and he said that it was because of the kind of strikes he used. He said that the technique was exactly like the students practiced every day in my village. He said he had never seen that man again but the man's figure was indelibly etched in his mind. He had started making carvings of the man and, coincidentally, they sold for a lot more than his other goods. The swordsman had saved his life and his trade, he said.

"When I saw the trader for the last time, he gave me one of those carvings he'd made as a token of his gratitude to all those noble men and women who had saved so many with their blades. That was when I realized how much we meant to the people of Ionia. Every single one of us in the school was a beacon of hope, and we were looked up to. The greatest among us were all the more valuable and Yasuo was the very best of them all. Yasuo was the idol of every child in the school. We all dreamed that may be one day we would be able to do what he did. We admired him, all of us."

"I can never forget that day when we found Yasuo standing over the corpse of that elder, his sword and clothes covered in blood. We were shocked to see that he'd committed the greatest crime as a pupil of the school - the crime of treason. But that was not the end of it. When the others tried to take him into custody for his summary execution, he cut them all down and fled. In his wake was left a trail of corpses, one of which was the ruined legacy of my school and my village."

"After the war, we tried our best to rebuild the village and bring it back to its former glory, but we couldn't. Yasuo's taint was too strong and we simply could not erase it. No merchants would trade with us, no one would employ the students from my school. We lost everything. In a matter of years almost everyone had left the village in search of a decent life and eventually, the village itself was all but abandoned."

"So," Ken said, at last looking up from the piece of wood in his palm, "Does that answer your question, Anil?"

Both Anil and Zhu were speechless. They had not expected to hear all that Ken had told them. Yasuo too was pained to hear of all that Ken had narrated. Although, in the past few years, he had not encountered fellow students honor bound to slay him while he was on the run, he had never thought that it would be because the school or even his village had ceased to exist.

All his hopes had been crushed yet again and Yasuo sat there leaning against the tree he was bound to, wondering why he had resisted arrest and escaped his execution. Every decision he had ever taken, every step of the way, it seemed, served only to worsen the mistakes he had set out to fix in the first place. How could one simple act born of indiscipline have brought down the whole world around him? And, how was it that nothing he had ever done could make things better?

Meanwhile, the conversation among the soldiers continued.

"I'm sorry, Ken" said Zhu sincerely. "I didn't realize…"

"Spare me," Ken spat out somewhat angrily. "Fuuzato was lost, but its people still thrive and we are honorable and proud. We don't need your pity."

From the distance, Yasuo couldn't help but remember the motto of the school, and by extension, of the village itself. "Honor in being, pride in doing," he said aloud.

The guards, though confused at first, understood soon enough that it had to have been Yasuo who had spoken. Zhu and Anil looked at Yasuo almost immediately, but Ken was slow to face him. It was clear that he was reluctant.

"Ironic that you should be the one to say it," said Ken after a brief silence. The words could not have come out any more bitterly than that and Yasuo felt the sting of guilt once again.

"Ironic? Hmm, I suppose I can understand why you think so, but I disagree," he replied. As intended, Yasuo had managed to annoy Ken, or so it appeared from the grimace that had taken form on Ken's face.

"You would disagree wouldn't you? That's all you've ever done. You disagreed with the teachings of the school. You disagreed with what was expected of you as guard to the elder. You disagreed with your sentencing. The list goes on…" said Ken dryly.

"It does, doesn't it?" said Yasuo condescendingly. "But you know the most interesting thing I disagree with?"

Ken refrained from replying, seeing Yasuo's question as a petty attempt to annoy him further.

"Come on, guess!" Yasuo egged him on.

Ken was mum.

"No? You don't want to guess?" Yasuo said playfully, "All right, I'll give you a hint. It has something to do with being tied to this tree."

Zhu and Anil had grown anxious by this point. "Do you think he's lying?" they whispered among themselves.

"Of course, he's lying about it. How can you even doubt that?!" Ken murmured back, although it was loud enough for Yasuo to hear.

"You aren't scared to come take a look, are you?" Yasuo said rather provocatively.

Ken cursed his breath and prepared to go check on Yasuo. Anil and Zhu merely exchanged glances, wondering if it was a good idea to let Ken do the checking, considering he was deeply upset about what had happened so many years ago.

The annoyance of having to guard Yasuo, of having to explain his position on Yasuo to some of his closest friends and finally having to put up with Yasuo's irreverence was beginning to wear on Ken. But Ken was not the complacent sort. He lay a hand on the hilt of his weapon in case of any eventualities, although it did not seem like the need would arise.

As he approached Yasuo, he beheld the man staring at the ground in front and his face was devoid of any of the mischievousness he had exhibited only moments ago. Ken wondered why there was such an obvious mismatch in voice and expression, but he decided not to waste too much doing anything other than what he had set out to do. In his haste, Ken walked past Yasuo thinking that it would be better to stay focused on the goal never realizing that doing so could prove to be a mistake.

The instant Ken decided to turn around to face the back of the tree, he could feel his feet being pulled back.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just to clarify, the name of the village and the brothers is my creation.

 _Fuuzato_ (combination of the Japanese readings of the characters for _Wind_ , read as _Fuu_ , and _Village_ , read as _Sato_ ) is literally " _wind village"_ or _"village of wind"_.

 _Taro_ and _Jiro_ are the names given to the first born and second born sons, respectively, in Japanese culture. Those are not the only names they use, obviously, but I thought they served the purpose well enough.

Any feedback/critique is welcome.

Thanks for reading and hope you like it.


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